


What We Must Do

by doylefan22



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylefan22/pseuds/doylefan22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana and Morgause both do what they must, but neither can forget what's most important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Must Do

The Dorocha wouldn’t harm her. They swept through the land like a plague, passing Morgana as she slowly made her way back from the Isle. Heading on their path of unrelenting destruction, they brought an even deeper chill to her flesh as they swirled around her, but they never touched her. It was part of the spell, Morgause had reassured; they would never harm the one who’d freed them. For a time it made her feel powerful to walk amongst them without fear, like a vengeful spirit come to wreak just havoc on those who’d wronged her. They provided a welcome distraction, their screams filling her mind and pushing everything else out until she left them behind, reaching the small hut that she and Morgause had shared for the last few months. It was barren and rustic, but it’d been home.

Now, she quickly came to realise, it was too quiet. She missed the sound of her sister’s voice as though it’d been filling an aching hole inside her all along. Even in Morgause’s last weeks, as her strength had failed, it’d held warmth and power like no other. It’d comforted Morgana, reassurance always in her honeyed tones, whatever she was saying. Now it was gone and Morgana had to be strong.

The first night was easier than she could’ve expected. She was exhausted from the journey and the power of the magic, sleep finding her easily as she focused on the plan they had spent so long perfecting. Tomorrow, things would start to fall into place. Her sister would be so proud.

And then Emrys invaded her dreams and she awoke with a fearful gasp. On instinct she expected arms around her and soothing words but there was nothing but silence. For the first time, there was no one to comfort her, the cold bracelet around her wrist a poor shadow of the protection she’d flourished under.

“You will see me again,” Morgause had soothed. “High Priestesses do not simply vanish into the ether when their bodies surrender to time. You will join me when your work here is done. Until then, have courage and see our plans through.”

Those words weren’t the comfort she’d suspected they were meant to be. Not now when all was dark and too quiet and the only voice she heard was her own.

She didn’t sleep anymore, focusing her attention on the plan and trying to remind herself that it was what she wanted. More importantly, it was what her sister had wanted, everything they’d hoped and worked for. Morgana waited with impatience, preparing to hear of Arthur’s downfall and to comfort herself with the fact that Morgause’s final sacrifice had come to fruition. That she would have been happy to hear it. Agravaine would announce Morgana as queen as he’d promised, his revenge on Uther complete. And if he didn’t or proved at all troublesome….well, she needed someone to sacrifice to close the veil. She would be the one to rescue the people where Arthur had failed and they would love her for it, just as Morgause had promised.

Only it wasn’t unfolding like that. Arthur, she discovered, was too close to the Isle now, and whether it was by luck or judgement, he had a habit of succeeding where he should fail. Even if he died in sacrifice, Camelot would still be hers, but he would be facing another battle as she tried to keep her throne whilst ruling over a people who wouldn’t welcome her. She wasn’t sure she had the strength within her for the constant fight. Not alone. Her instinct was to rage in light of what was unravelling and, whilst she knew that would be counterproductive, there was no one now to tell her to stop. It was far too easy to ignore the voice of reason in her head when the pain in her heart was growing.

Her only company was Agravaine, and he was no comfort at all, even though she took a perverse pleasure in his visits. His words generally held nothing but problems and troubles for her but, after two days alone, she needed to hear someone else’s voice to quite the dark ones inside her. He seemed to like her and had an appropriate measure of respect - or a healthy fear - but he was hardly a friend from her point of view. Yet she felt her heart quicken at his arrival and felt a coldness when he left again.

The fact she could get excited about the visit of a man that she could barely bring herself to smile for didn’t seem like a good sign.

More days passed and her level of activity dwindled. There was only so much she could do to keep herself occupied. It wasn’t long before she was just sitting and waiting, watching the fire distantly, mind trapped in far off places. Back in the moment when she’d plunged the knife down, seeing an expression of triumph on her sister’s face and trying to convince herself that that made it all right. It was the last time she’d seen her at all before the blast of magic had knocked her from her feet. When she’d finally risen again, Morgause was gone and that was to be her last memory of her sister.

Morgause had wanted it, Morgana told herself over and over. She’d hesitantly broached the subject months ago and initially Morgana had refused outright, insisting that they would find another way. That she would save her and nothing was worth that sacrifice. But time had continued on and Morgause had got weaker, pain almost constantly wracking her body, the potions Morgana made barely even dulling it any more. She’d slept safe in Morgana’s arms for months and when she’d at last begged her not to touch her because it hurt too much, the horrible truth became too clear; she was dying and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it.

‘Please, sister. I do not want to wither away in my bed. Help me do this. Help me leave this world the way I wish.’

The self loathing she saw growing in Morgause every day was what finally made her agree. It was clear that she hated this weakness and not even being able to take comfort in the only thing she loved any more was breaking her. The smile on her face when Morgana had acquiesced was beautiful. Most ironic considering what Morgana was agreeing to, but at least then they’d had a few precious days of peace before the journey had started.

Morgana had wanted to hide in those days forever and not face what was to come.

The immediate aftermath she’d been prepared for, steeling herself against it, her mind focused on the plan and this Emrys who seemed destined to haunt her. But the longer she sat on her own now and waited, the worse her mind became. Her hands shook almost constantly, filled with the hateful memory of the downward strike that they never wanted to do. She could still feel the sensation of steel sliding into flesh. It made her feel sick.

She was alone now and the loneliness itself was crushing. It was as if something had cracked inside her the moment she’d brought the dagger down and a shell was now slowly crumbling away. What was left behind was raw and turbulent, the most vivid and violent emotions polluting her thoughts.

She was grieving for her sister, that much she knew and had expected. It was harsh and painful, a mixture of fire and emptiness, but there was so much more there too, more than she could handle. Something else was being dragged up and it threatened to consume her. In truth, she could see herself falling and didn’t care. She hurt too much.

She didn’t sleep that night.

Too many times she thought she saw a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. Too often she expected to feel gentle hands on her shoulders, drawing the blankets tighter around her whilst a soft, tender kiss was dropped into her hair.

“Patience, my love. Our time will come.”

There was no ‘our’ any more and Morgana’s laugh at the realisation was hollow and cold.

She was sure they’d be pleased to see her like this. Those who’d caused it; Uther and Arther. Gwen. Gaius. Merlin. They’d relish her pain and rejoice in it. They didn’t want her to be happy because they hated her kind. 

Agonising coldness clutched fiercely at her heart. She was so very alone. Even if she took the throne, what was the point without Morgause at her side? Was she destined to stay in pained isolation forever whilst those who had thrown her here basked in love and security, pretending that they were so superior in their cruelty?

As part of her began to truly not care any more, realising that she was going through the motions because it was what was planned, she tried desperately to force herself out of it. To find the joy in their righteous crusade once more. That was why she screamed her throat raw when Agravaine brought her the ill news, true pain shooting through her body. It’d all been for nothing. She’d lost everything, had had everything good torn from her life, and gained not a thing in return. It had barely seemed worth it before and now…

Her mind tried to argue rationally, tell her that was nothing else she could have done, but it was so easy to ignore that voice now. She’d failed Morgause, she’d lost Morgause and everything hurt.

There was nothing good left in the world.

She sobbed when he left her, waiting until he was well out of earshot before collapsing to the floor, beating her hand against the rough wood until she felt a bone crack.The pain was a blessed distraction from that in her heart. She begged Morgause aloud for forgiveness - sorry for her weakness and failure - before laying down, cradling her throbbing hand to her chest. Slowly, her whole body became numb. Would she even be allowed to join her in that place beyond life now, she wondered? Would Morgause welcome her? Or would she always blame her for letting her down?

They’d killed her sister, her life’s work coming to nothing, everything she’d dreamt of lying in the dust.

And there was only one path back to her for now, Morgana realised in the dead of night, the fire having long burned out. She had to finish what Morgause had started and destroy them all. Then she would welcome her home with open arms.

**********************

This world hadn’t existed before Morgana had torn the veil, that much Morgause was sure of. This wasn’t the Beyond that the old texts spoke of, but nor was it part of the land of the living. A world existing in between the two…well she would’ve imagined it to be a horrific place of torment and emptiness and yet there was peace here. Flowered meadows and shaded marble temples filled the landscape, the buildings an empty template, as though waiting for someone to put their stamp on them.

Morgause crafted a small knife, surprised to find her magic still worked here, and started to carve the symbols of the Goddess into the walls. It brought her much comfort. It made it feel like home.

As did the relief of her situation. There was no more pain now and, she realised as she caught her reflection in a pool, her appearance had regained some of its luster. Her hair began to look glossy again and the scars on her face started to fade, her skin returning to a healthy pallor. It was all more perfect than she could have hoped for.

Until the screams.

The knife clattered to the floor forgotten the moment she heard them and she ran down the barren corridor, following the sound easily, knowing the voice and fearful of what it meant. She’d not yet come across the archway she discovered but she knew instantly what it was; a view on the world she’d left behind.She realised then that this was no simple, peaceful haven but a place of mixed fortune. Unlike the Beyond, there was no oblivion of ignorance here. You would know and see all that happened in the world you’d left and yet were unable to do anything about it.

She watched, seeing her beloved Morgana in despair and grief. Seeing what her in own pain and distracted plotting she’d failed to realise before; that her sister was in greater pain than she herself had ever been. She’d sensed from the beginning that Morgana had the potential for great power but that it needed to be carefully controlled. She was a creature of emotion and that could make her exceptionally dangerous, not just for everyone around her but for Morgana herself. Morgause had failed to realise though just how far she would fall without her.

The carvings abruptly stopped then, a forgotten indulgence, and Morgause conjured parchment and ink instead, back to what she had done all her life; planning and plotting. 

She must get home. To Morgana. Nothing was more important.


End file.
